Rori Homecoming
by Mike Taurguss
Summary: A Padawon escaping the Great Purge returns to the battlefield that was once his home. His journey leads to self discovery and a neew beginning. Based on a Character I created in the MMO Star Wars Galaxies. Please R&R. Rated T for violence.


**Rori Homecoming**

Nothing builds character like having everything you ever cherished pulled from under your feet. I suppose it was inevitable though. That's the way the galaxy works.

Call them what you like, Empires, Republics, whatever. They're just words created to draw the illusion of unification to the common person down on the streets, or out on the rim.

In the end, it doesn't mean much. It all falls apart, usually from the center, like in Courescant, instead of unraveling at the seams, like out on the edge, on Tatooine or Yavin.

Nope, the small, settlement worlds only end up as the battlegrounds, because the powers that be want to keep their big fancy, developed planets clean and undamaged when they gain control, even though thats where they start the trouble in the first place.

And the common man or woman, caught in the middle? Hell, half the time, all they know is that someone else is sitting in the big chair, making the big decisions.

There are times I wished I was one of those common men, getting up from day to day, going to a mundane job, earning my wages, paying my bills, perhaps raising a family in quiet anonymity.

Oh, well, I guess that wasn't in the cards.

No, I had to be related to one of those big time decision makers, a member of the Republic Senate.

My father was Senator Acacius Istonaz. He wasn't one of the big players in the political game, per se. Our home world, Rori, actually fell under the control of Naboo, since our home was one of that world's satellite moons. Still, the Republic required that all worlds had a voice, so, my father was elected to his post.

The way it worked was simple. Individuals were voted in by the popular majority, usually for a term of no more than three years. At any time, the population could equally vote their representative out just as easily. All it took was a simple session of the council of law and someone could get the political axe.

Funny thing was, lower representatives came and went, but for some reason, my father kept getting voted back in. Year after year, after year, for over twenty years, he held the people's favor.

He wasn't a great man. Not if you count greatness in stature and appearance. He was a man, like any other man, except that he was more honest than most and more apt to speak his mind than many. He was of medium height, with neatly groomed hair that began mostly black but migrated to a snow white in his latter years. It seemed to float over his head, like wisps of snowy wire that he always kept meticulously combed.

When he met someone, he actually met them, with handshakes and smiles that were far too genuine for anyone marked by the title "politician". He was a great motivator, speaking in a voice that was filled with calm and passion in equal measure.

Most importantly, he listened. He listened to people, family and strangers alike, in a way that people dream of being heard. There was never a conversation that he felt was trivial, no subject too dull or unworthy of his time. If it was important to the man or woman before him, then it became important to him. His political career wasn't based on promises to be granted at a later time, or back alley allegiances to shady characters. My father succeeded in politics in a way that most politicians cringe at. He _was_ honest. He _kept_ his promises. He took the condition of his constituency to heart. Rori was his home, and every single man, woman, and child, was a member of his family. He wasn't afraid to let them know when he was displeased with them, or me, either. And his wrath could quiet entire rooms with a single sweeping gaze.

Most importantly, he taught all of his children to think. Never accept things at face value. Never listen to only one side of an argument. Ask questions. Find answers. Take the time to weigh all possibilities whenever possible, and then make an informed and educated decision.

That last bit of life learning that I gained from him was undoubtedly what got me kicked out, shortly before he died.

Not kicked out of my family. That would never have happened. No, I got kicked out of the Jedi Order. Like everything else in my life, when I did something, I did it big.

In retrospect, it was probably the only good thing that came out of that whole sad, messed up situation because here I am, still alive, even after Vader's murderous purge of the Jedi from The Temple to Tatooine.

And now, here I am again, back home, more or less, looking at what remains of my planet, and the places where I grew up.

This was Restuss, a garden city in the middle of an even bigger chunk of paradise. Now it's seven levels of hell in a six story building.

Even though I can see the broken colonnades and jagged charred corners, I can still see it like it was, lined in smooth pale stone streets, with deep rich magenta buildings, trimmed in yellow gold.

This long avenue used to be the main street that led from the entrance of the market district to the city theater. When you walked on it, you never felt a crack or loose stone, now the small pebbles and other remains crunch under my boots as I make my way down towards the small apartment I once had here.

Occasionally, a shadow moves from a broken pipe or crumbling facade, scampering away from me as I approach. I can feel the fear and trauma in the few minds that remain here. The Force is sometimes more brutally honest than my father was. I know that the small child hiding behind the blasted speeder has radiation poisoning. I know that he's going to die soon, if he doesn't get help. And I know that if I tried to go to him, he would simply scamper deeper into the ruins and vanish.

There's a weight inside my chest that builds with every reluctant step I take.

There are imperials here too. Snipers and cleanup squads, here to finish the job, or take care of any intruders. I can sense their minds through the Force as well. Their minds are cold, calculating, well disciplined, and still tainted with the hunger for blood that only battle produces.

Quickly, I slide up closer to the ruined wall of a building that I remember as a refresher station, the Happy Faamba. It used to be one of those small, unobtrusive drinking establishments that offered libations unaccompanied by the raucous noise of more traditional cantinas.

Now the entrance was a charred and blackened doorway leading into a gray black hole.

Keeping my hand inside my hide jacket, I feel the reassuring grip of my light saber and duck into the old bar.

The walls and floor are blasted and covered with a myriad of debris. The shattered glass of the mirrors behind the bar covered the floor, bar, and few untumbled tables that remain. Dust still hangs thick in the place, scratching at my nostrils and stinging my senses with the odor of charred materials and people. Chunks of steelplast and ferrocrete litter the floor and wires hang in tangled knots from the ceiling.

Beyond the rear entrance, which used to lead to the kitchen, hazy sunlight filters through the remains of the next building, leveled by a laser blast or errant proton bomb.

It's a strange thing to see the place I grew up in like this. My mind keeps rejecting reality and placing my memories in their place. I see everything as it is and as it was at the same time. I could easily go mad in this place, wandering about seeing everything as a fantasy until some sharpshooter picked me off from a broken rooftop.

The Force can sometimes be a curse as well as a blessing.

A glitter of light, off to one side, catches my eye and I turn to see something common in disasters.

A single cabinet, Netie's cabinet, untouched by the chaos, as if someone had placed it there after the battle. A rich, red brown piece of Rorian history, my history, just waiting for some stupid trog to come waltzing by.

The rich carved doors open easily, and within, I find a treasure.

"Ah Netie, darling," I hear myself say as I remove the tall, slender bottle of Restian Brandy and a tumbler. "You were always so good to me."

I fill the small tumbler with the thick amber liquid, and watch the hazy light sparkle within the glass. The nutty fragrance of the alcohol chases the charred odor away for a few moments as I sniff it, luxuriating in the scent. Then the tingle as the liquor touches my lips, and the comfortable warm burn as it flows into me.

"Who says you can't come home again," I whisper.

Too quickly, the drink is gone. I find an old battered tablecloth and gently wrap both the bottle and the tumbler in it, tucking my treasure beneath my arm. Then I edge back out into the street. Turning back, I can almost see her standing behind the ruined bar, her dark hair tied back in a long tail, her green eyes glittering merrily as she smiles.

"Goodbye, Netie. See you next time."

A quick scan of the ruined street, and a sensing through the Force, shows no threats that can be perceived, apart from the occasional falling chunk of ferrocrete.

I make my way quickly around the corner, across from the blackened pit that was once the theater and find my home.

The building is only half there, blackened and broken from the blast. The stairwell to the second floor is a hollow, squarish pit, but the wing of the building where my apartment was, is still mostly intact.

Stretching out through the Force, I make a slightly augmented leap to the second floor landing and look down the hallway to the broken wall beyond.

I can see more of the city from up here, well, more of the ruins anyway. The gray ash and blackened buildings look like rotting teeth protruding from ragged, sickly gums in the surface of the planet. Smoke still rises from fires left to burn in other parts of the city.

A sudden puff of orange smoke and a rumble signifies a secondary explosion. I feel it in the pit of my stomach.

"Hell," I mutter, and I turn away from the holocaust in search of my door.

The first thing I realize when I find my old home, is that only half of it is still there. The outer wall is missing, as well as a sizable portion of the floor just beyond the entrance. Turning right, I move towards the kitchen and my own bedroom. Dust and debris cover everything. The furniture is scattered about the place, and some of the timbers that lined my ceiling lay across the hall and over the counter top.

The entire ruinous scene has me so enthralled that I don't even realize there's another person there until I hear the safety on the blaster click.

"Hold it right there."

The voice is tinny, muffled, with a crisp precise accent. Imperial.

"Take it easy," I say slowly, raising my hands and holding the precious bundle aloft.

Turning around, I see him standing in the entrance of the apartment. His E-11 pointed right at my chest. How had the bastard followed me without me sensing him?

His armor was white, probably at the beginning of the day, now coated with a fine layer of gray ash. I can sense his curiosity. Why am I here? What do I want?

I also hear his thoughts, his standing orders for the day. Shoot all on sight. Still, he hesitated, why?

The answer comes to me from his own mind. The bundle in my hand. He wants to know what it is, if it's valuable, what he might be able to get for it if he loots it intact.

"Just relax," I offer, since he hasn't made any demands. "I just wanted to come back and see if I could salvage any of my things, nothing more."

"Drop the bundle." He orders me.

"Drop a bottle of Restian Brandy?" I think to myself. "Like hell."

"I'll just set it on the counter, there," I offer, nodding towards the debris strewn counter top.

The dark eye slots stare back at me, emotionless, robotic, even though I can sense the human within. That piques his curiosity more. Fragile always translates into valuable. I can almost sense his greed. As soon as that bundle touches the counter, I know he's going to shoot.

The bundle moves closer to the counter and I can sense his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Just relax," I offer uselessly.

Stretching out with my mind, I seize a small chunk of ferrocrete and hold it.

As the cloth touches the counter, I fling the debris at his weapon.

The shot explodes as the weapon is knocked aside. Then there's another flash, this time a red one, as my light saber ignites with a snap hiss and severs his arm, just below the elbow. Hand and blaster fall uselessly to the ground as I hear the tinny gasp from behind the helmet. The another gesture and I send a Force blast into his chest, shooting his body backwards and slamming it into the broken wall behind him with bone crushing force.

Even as his maimed body slides to the floor, I feel the life ebb from him. By the time he is seated on the ground, he's dead.

The incessant hum of the crimson light saber in my hands mesmerizes me for a moment as I stare at the corpse. Thoughts drift in and out of my mind.

"_Blasters, light sabers, words, contracts, laws, the Force, all of these are tools, Tiberius. Tools only. It is not the tools that create evil. Not the tools that created the Jedi and the Sith. It was what was done with those tools that created them."_

I let the light saber close down and slide it back into concealment within the pocket of my jacket. Then I brush the dust from my black pants and boots.

With a sharp movement, I also snap the dust from my coat.

"I like the tools," I tell the stormtrooper. "I like how they work."

Then I take the bundle and open it, setting the bottle and tumbler back on the counter after a quick Force Sweep, clearing the debris.

A stool lies on the opposite side of the counter. One of my comfortable, simple wooden stools for when I used to eat a rushed breakfast before heading out for work. I right it and set it down, refilling the tumbler and drinking deep the flavor of my broken world.

Looking down at the corpse crumpled on the floor, I think I smiled.

"You know," I said to him. "I didn't have any trouble with you until now."

I could feel the brandy already beginning to work, but I didn't care. I knew that the rest of this fellow's squad would probably come looking for him at some point, but I didn't care about that either.

I shouldn't linger here, I knew that, but somehow, I didn't want to go. Oh, I'd leave in a while, after I finished what I had come here to do.

What had I come here to do? I stopped with the glass mid way to my lips. I came back here for what? To rescue people? No, there wasn't anyone left alive to rescue. The only ones that did remain in this mess were the ones too traumatized, or too mad to want to leave.

Vengeance? What would be the point of that? It wouldn't rebuild the buildings or restore the lives lost in the conflict. My father died on Courescant, not in this maelstrom. And, let's face it; Palpatine was a little out of my league at the present.

What in the seven moons was I doing here? Again, my eyes fell on the lifeless form against the wall. Another useless corpse in a city filled with pointless dead. I didn't even know his name. Had he had a name? Was he one of those clone troopers, or one of those fresh idealistic new recruits that had been swelling the Empire's ranks lately.

"Never mind what I was thinking," I said to him. I rose, feeling the comfortable warmth and numbness in my limbs as the brandy continued to work. "What the Hell were you thinking? Coming into my house and messing with me? With me!"

That comfortable inebriation was beginning to assert itself, tearing down the walls of caution that I had built up on my way through the city to this point.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to barge into another persons' home?" I continued. I could hear my voice rising in spite of the small, sober part of my brain that was screaming for me to shut the hell up.

In a sudden flurry of anger, I gulped down the last of my drink and hurled the glass at the corpse, watching it shatter against the white armor helmet.

That was stupid. I think I sighed with the realization.

"Now look what you made me do," I chided him. I sat back down on the creaking stool and rubbed my temples.

"How in the Hell does a Jedi repress all these feelings?" I wondered absently. It was one of many questions that I had never gotten an adequate answer for. Many, many questions.

"Too many questions," I sighed. Then I looked at my motionless guest. I think I smiled again even as I took a pull at the bottle.

"Maybe you can explain it to me?" I suggested. "Tell me something? How is a Jedi – a real Jedi – supposed to detach him or herself from their humanity? Always assuming that I am speaking of the human Jedi." I chuckled. "Perhaps I should have used the word sentient." I shrugged. "You got an answer for that one?"

My guest made no reply.

Picking up the bottle, I rose and stepped, or maybe staggered, towards him.

"Tell you what I think," I offered. "I think that they can't do it. Not completely. Not really. Not permanently anyways. I think that's why your buddies in the Sith Order are still bumming about." I seated myself against the next broken wall and took another drink.

"I think it's mentally impossible to purge ones self of all passions," I continued. In the back of my mind, I wondered idly why I was conversing with a corpse. Then again, who else was there?

"Still," I went on, ignoring that little twitch. I took another drink and sank a little deeper into the numbing warmth. "That's what the Jedi expect." I shrugged. "When you sit down and really think about it, it's kind of messed up, the way they look at the galaxy. Then again, the Sith aren't much better."

My mind was flowing freely now, in as much as I was feeling the inebriation. I held up a finger and pointed at the corpse, as if emphasizing some fact, some point that the motionless form was no longer capable of understanding.

"It's a matter of extremes, I think," I said. "Think about it. The Jedi are all wisdom and patience. Don't be aggressive, don't force your will on others, don't use your powers for personal gain, work for the greater good, and try and establish peace and democracy in the galaxy. Pretty straightforward, right?"

The corpse made no reply.

"Right," I nodded. "On the surface, pretty nice. A lot of Noble sentiments, achievable and workable, with all the delusions well hidden in old fashioned, half understood Jedi rhetoric."

I took another drink. "Conversely," I continued. "The Sith are kind of like the opposite approach, but with the same goals in mind. Peace through domination and conflict, mixed with a healthy dose of repression. Destroy those who don't subscribe to your ideals, and then you'll have peace in the Galaxy."

I smiled. "Now, take away the fancy abilities, the nifty little light sabers, the regal robes, the trappings of a hugely overbuilt ziggurat of a temple, and what have you got?"

The tiny voice in my mind. The one that cautioned me to keep silent, to not linger too long, was finally subdued. Any concern for my safety, or well being was drowned in the sweet nutty flavor of home. I took another long drink and sighed.

I watched the pale moonlight play on the graceful curves of the bottle.

"You have two huge kids fighting in the sandbox," I finally said aloud.

Another drink. "So, which kid am I?" I asked, looking sidelong at my motionless companion.

A twitch of the Force, and both limp arms rose in a grotesque pantomime of a shrug, and then fell back to the floor again.

I smiled drunkenly. "Oh yeah. Now I know I'm gone."

Which child was I? That thought circled, muddy, in my numbed mind. Then, like a proton explosion, I suddenly understood.

"That's it!" I shouted triumphantly. "That's the answer!"

I looked excitedly at the corpse and smiled, waggling my finger at him like I was admonishing a small child. "You sneaky little bastards! You're pulling a Massassi, that's what you're doing!"

I took a drink and leaned my head back against the cracked ferrocrete. "You bastards are pulling a Massassi. Only two sides of the story, and we both know that's never the case!"

I chuckled out loud. "There's never only two sides of a story my friend," I went on. "There are three! The Massassi figured that out, saw where we were heading, and decided to bug out before things got too ugly. That's why no one could figure out what happened to them! They weren't destroyed! They left!"

The corpse made no move to reply.

"Come on," I rolled my eyes towards the broken ceiling. "You can't tell me that you've never thought about it? Wait a second, you're a grunt. Never mind, you weren't paid to think."

"Okay," I staggered to my feet, barely keeping my balance. My legs had gone numb from the combination of alcohol and sitting on the floor for so long. "Okay, I know you weren't a genius, but try and follow me through here, okay?"

I began pacing up and down the broken hallway as my rant continued.

"On one side, we have our good friend, Master Wrinkles himself, Palpatine," I explained. "And he's spouting all this Bantha dung about 'Jedi are bad, Jedi are evil, Jedi seek to take control,' and in retrospect, maybe they did get a bit too big for their britches, I'll give you that."

In retrospect, I was being a jabbering moron. Any sniper worth his salt could have fragged me from a kilometer away. Well, that's Restian Brandy for you.

"But!" I held up a finger as if silencing a protest that was not forthcoming. "How much crap has happened since Palpy and his goons have jumped into the pilot seat, huh?"

I tipped the bottle and felt the warmth flow into me again. "A helluva lot more than when Master Windu and Yoda and all the other happy horn blowers were sitting in their little round room, that's for sure!"

Happy horn blowers?

"You see," I went on. "They both wanted everyone to believe that they were right and the other side was wrong. That their way, meditation or aggression, was the correct path to learn all there was about the Force!"

I grinned stupidly and leaned against the counter. "But!" I held my hand up again. "But. What if they're both wrong? Answer me that one?"

The crumpled figure on the floor made no answer.

I chuckled. "You got the same answer that my late lamented master had. That's because both of them _are_ wrong! And both of them are just too damned stubborn to accept it! So we're back to the kids in the sandbox routine."

"There are always three sides to any story, Junior," I continued. "One side, the other side, and somewhere in the middle, buried beneath all the lies, misinformation, theological differences, and all that other stuff, is the real truth! Right?"

Again, my deceased houseguest made no reply.

"And I think," I continued, moving towards the body like I would emphasize my point with every step. "I think the truth is mixed up in the middle, in that gray area between the light side and the dark side." I waggled my finger at him again. "And I'm not the first one to figure this out either, am I? Oh no, I'm not.

Someone else cut through the shoma and got to ba'raan on this thing before I was even born! Ol' Qui-Gon figured it out, and even tried to explain it to a few others, before you and yours stuck him and took him out of the game."

"Ba'raan?" I thought. My mind drifted back to envision the small ornate wooden plaque that had always hung on the wall of my father's study. While the imagery never really stuck with me, the engraving upon it was like a motto for how my father, and by default, my brothers, sister, and I lived our lives.

"_Su ba'raan e' asto'e matra"_

"Seek truth, in all things," I translated aloud.

There's a point when, even after consuming inordinate amounts of alcohol, the numbing effects can be subsumed.

It is a moment in time when everything snaps so clearly into focus that even a dose of glitterstim wouldn't fuzz it out.

That was the kind of moment I had, there, amidst the ruins of my home, in the company of a corpse, with everything in my universe reduced to ashes.

"Su ba'raan," I thought. I think I smiled in spite of myself. It was all so bloody simple that even the wisest couldn't figure it out. Then again, the most revolutionary ideas are the simplest.

"I gotta get out of here," I said aloud. I think a part of me was in shock at how simple the whole thing was. I was suddenly and acutely aware that I was in a hostile environment, surrounded by Imperials, and all alone. Whatever in the seven moons was I thinking when I decided to come back here?

Restian Brandy? Good grief, I could have gotten drunk on anything in any number of safer environments. And besides, my revelation had all but quelled my inebriation.

"Damn," I sighed. I held up the empty bottle and felt a twinge of sadness. "What a waste."

I set the bottle back down on the counter and quickly began removing anything I could use from my house guest – Utility belt, sidearm, extra ammo, coms unit.

I had a little trouble prying the dead fingers from the grip of his E11, but fortunately, the severed limb allowed me an easier angle to work with it. The armored arm fell to the floor with a thud.

He was carrying a credit chit, and it looked like it had about fifteen hundred Imperial credits still available on it. It must have been payday recently. Well, that would get me off the planet.

I stared at the small metallic disc for a moment, my mind wandering. At that moment, there were Tracker Units, Bounty Hunters, and any number of other assassins out there, hunting for Jedi that were missed in the purge. Even though I had been expelled…it was only a matter of time before a back trace of the records would expose my involvement with their order and how far in my training I had progressed.

After that, Bounty Hunters and Tracker Units would be scouring the known systems for Tyrion Istonaz.

To do what I needed to do, I needed to start all over from scratch.

"_Su ba'raan"_

I would require a new name, new history, new everything. And here, now, in this dangerous place, I had the perfect opportunity.

My Y-Wing was parked in the Restuss Star Port, or rather, what remained of it. The Port Master had seen me, and knew where I was going, which meant that the Imps would be hot on my trail as soon as they started speaking to him. And there were dozens of offshoots of the Istonaz family on at least a half dozen worlds, all members of the same family, but with variations on the spelling and pronunciation. Assimilating myself into one of those lesser known lines would be easy. But, which one do I use? Which one would help hide me from the Imperials? A simple search of the central database would show me what I needed. With my plan formulated, I was only missing one vital ingredient.

Still, sitting in a dead city, the site of a recent battle, I figured that missing piece would be rather easy to acquire.

Using the Force, I scanned the nearby area and found no trace of a threat. I dropped from the open wall of my apartment, to the rubble strewn wreckage below and moved cautiously through the ruins.

It was a surprisingly short period of time before I found what I needed.

He lay in a crevice, between two large ferrocrete chunks. His pale eyes locked on the wavy sky.

He had probably been a lurker, one of those poor unfortunates who's psyche snapped under the pressure of watching their home obliterated.

He had the right general build, the right height, more or less, which was what I needed. And as a bonus, it appeared that he had been killed fairly recently, at most within a couple of days. Ignoring the stench of the corpse, I bent down and hauled the dead man up, slinging him over my shoulder.

I returned to my apartment and found nothing disturbed. My first houseguest was still slumped against the broken wall. I replaced his credit chit in his pocket, removed his sidearm holster and pistol. I knew there was no way the non issue sidearm would be missed. It was a DE-10 model that was preferred by hunters and sportsmen, and also belonged to a former neighbor. My ambitious house guest had obviously been searching more carefully among the ruins of the building in order to find that.

I strapped the holster to my hip and slid the large, silver pistol into place.

Time to put my plan into action. I laid the second corps on the floor, in between the breakfast bar and the broken wall. Then, resigning myself to the notion that I had to leave the proper evidence, I used the Force to lift the body from the floor and remove his shirt and long ragged jacket. I replaced his smelly clothing with my own shirt and fine jacket and then let the body sink to the floor.

"Okay junior," I said to the imperial corpse. "Time to make you a hero."

The troopers' com crackled.

"Trooper 974, do you copy?" a similar accented voice asked. "Jonas, are you there?"

Quickly, I cut the channel. Standard procedure when sneaking up on a potential enemy.

It was now or never. I lifted the corpse of the derelict and set it awkwardly on its feet, using a subtle twitch of the Force to keep him standing, and then I stood at the opposite side of the hall, where my Imperial guest had been standing when he first entered my home.

I raised the E-11 and aimed. The Carbine spat red death at the corpse, and I let the inertia of that rapid burst do my job for me, sending the derelict sprawling in the hall.

I switched my com link on, and adjusted it to the Imperial Frequency. The same voice came over the speaker again.

"Jonus! Jonus! Report!"

Suddenly, the channel was alive with voices. I had minutes to execute the rest of my plan and vanish.

I put the E-11 back in the fingers of the severed arm and let that fall to the ground. Then, I removed my light saber, activated it, and touched the brilliant red blade to the clothing of the second body.

Flames began to lick at the cloth, and soon, the body was engulfed. The fire produced a thick, sickening acrid smoke that belched forth, out the broken wall of the apartment.

I set the light saber, still activated, in the fingers of the derelict, and made sure that the lifeless finger maintained enough pressure on the blade to keep it active. I felt a tinge of loss as I stepped away from my weapon. It passed quickly. I could always craft another one.

The voices prattled on.

"_Did anyone see where those shots came from?"_

"_Jonus, report position! What's your status?"_

"_Can anyone see anything?"_

"_Where was that?"_

"_Central, this is Sniper position 881…I have smoke and fire one hundred meters north of my position."_

"_Can you see Jonus?"_

"_Negative Central. The smoke is too thick. However I believe I did see blaster fire a few moments ago."_

"_Lieutenant Quinlon!"_

"_Sir!"_

"_Take your patrol to 881, recon and report!"_

"_On our way! 881, ETA two minutes!"_

"_Copy."_

"_If you see anyone, or anything up there, not in an Imperial uniform, I want it dead on the street!"_

"_Understood!"_

Two minutes, and a sniper focusing on this location.

He had said that my home was north of his position, which meant he was on the south side of the building. I ducked into the hallway, making sure to stay below any breaks in the southern wall of the building.

Any hint of movement and the Sniper was sure to spot me. I had two minutes to find shelter…plenty of time, I hoped.

It's funny how, when executing a dangerous and ambitious plan, small little details designed to make the plan more dangerous, but also improve the outcome, will pop into one's mind.

I couldn't use my money; I had left my credit chit in the pocket of the coat that was currently part of a burning corpse in my old home. I had returned the credit chit to the dead Imperial, otherwise his comrades would have known that he had been looted. In effect, I was penniless.

I couldn't use my Y-Wing at the star port, because it was registered in my name. If they found my corpse burning in a building and then my ship launched from the star port, they would know it wasn't a Jedi that their friend had killed.

In that moment of realization and dread, a second little thread of thought drifted up.

I needed to get back to the Happy Faamba.

I scrambled down another hallway and dropped into a darkened stairwell, just as I heard the approaching footfalls of jogging Imperials.

My new pistol was in my hand as I crouched in the corner, hiding behind a half collapsed stairwell.

I counted eight of them as they jogged past the opening, mere meters from me.

These weren't the smaller scouts either. These were the big elite storm troopers. The ones you send in with your initial assault. Strong, single minded, and ruthless, these men would charge into a wall of blaster fire without a second thought.

I held my breath by the shattered doorway, his helmet swiveling back and forth.

I tried to pull myself even deeper into the shadows of the alcove.

"Don't look this way," I pleaded silently. It wasn't that I couldn't take him. Hell, I could probably eliminate all of them. The problem was, if I did engage them, then my plan would be foiled, and everything I had staged would be for nothing.

He may have held his position for only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, he continued on out of sight.

My breath expelled from my lungs in a long, silent hiss.

I stepped to the edge of the doorway and peeked around into the broken street just in time to see the last two vanish into the opposite end of the building.

I put my comlink to my ear and waited.

"_Easy lads. Standard breach pattern. Watch out for surprises."_

The sound of quick footsteps echoed in the speaker.

"_Clear!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_Watch the weapon. That blade touches you and it'll take off a limb."_

"_Ah hell. Central, this is Quinlon. Area is secure. Looks like Corporal Jonus stumbled across one of those wretched Jedi."_

"_What's your status?"_

"_Jonus is down. The Jedi is down as well. Looks like Jonus's blaster fire ignited him in the fight. It's a smelly mess up here."_

"_Any other activity in the building?"_

"_Not that we can tell, Central."_

"_Confirmed. Check the surrounding area and report back. At least we can tell Jonus's family that he died ridding the Empire of those blasted Jedi. Can you identify the body?"_

"_Not without a post mortem, I'm afraid. One of the shots looks to have struck the Jedi in the face."_

"_Confiscate the light saber. We can back check the records to find the owner. Sweep the area for any others and return to base."_

"_Understood."_

I smiled grimly and moved quickly and quietly down the street away from the building.

Staying low I made my way back to the ruins of the Happy Faamba and ducked inside.

Behind the bar, beneath the rubber insulated floor stripping, I found what I was looking for. Netie's personal stash.

I didn't know if there would be anything in it. If there wasn't, then that was good, because it meant that there was a chance my old friend was alive and well, somewhere away from this hell hole.

The small panel resisted my ministrations for a bit. Then, with a final creak of protest, it came free.

Looking inside, I found the small, elongated silver container, and a second, small bag.

A twinge of sadness touched my heart at that moment. Netie had been the only one who knew about this stash. She had confided in me one evening, after I had shared my secret with her.

"Oh, Netie," I sighed. I removed the box and the bag, setting them on the floor before me. "I'm sorry."

It didn't take long to defeat the lock on the box. I lifted the lid and gasped in surprise.

There had to be at least ten thousand credits in hard currency in that container, along with some other more esoteric, but valuable items.

The bag itself was empty. I stuffed the money into the provided sack and slipped the shoulder strap over my head.

Thanking Netie, the Force, and a few deities that I hadn't spoken with for half my life, I made another quick exit from the establishment and began worming my way through the ruins, out of the Storm Trooper's sweep zone, and back towards the refugee camp that had once been the Restuss Star Port.

A three thousand credit bribe later, and I was on a cramped transport, bound for Theed.

I squeezed through the huddling, weeping mass of humanity and found an isolated corner where I could crouch and rest. With the tension of the previous hours' efforts behind me, I was weary. I think I slept, holding the bag to my chest like a child's doll. My mind was filled with the images of the previous hours. The figure of the trooper I had killed. I saw the face of the body I had found to take my place. His expression hadn't concerned me at the time, but now, in retrospect, I couldn't help but ponder the look on the poor bastards face. It was a mixture of surprise and wonder, as if he had learned some great secret of the universe just before the end.

I found myself wondering just what he might have learned in those last few moments of life that would have granted him peace in that war zone. Did the trooper I had killed have the same expression, hidden behind the faceplate of his emotionless helmet?

With those contemplations drifting about in my mind, I slipped off into an uneasy, exhausted sleep.

The landing struts hitting the ground were what awakened me from my dreams. Then a tinny voice came over an old speaker.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please stay with your groups until you have been processed through customs." The voice was female, with a pleasant, almost reassuring lilt to it.

"Welcome to Theed."

I could not permit myself to be processed through customs. Not without a new identity placed in the system. I needed to circumvent the customs people and get myself onto another departing ship as quickly as possible.

Fortunately for me, my familiarity with snub fighters had also granted me a familiarity with star ports and hangers, including the one I currently visited.

I huddled towards the end of the group of refugees, watching as the firm, but courteous representatives of the Naboo government guided my fellow passengers out the airlock and down onto the floor of a massive hanger.

The floors were paved in fine, gray brick, painted here and there with guidelines for ships of various makes, sizes and styles.

Several other ships were also parked nearby. A quick check and my eyes settled on a moderately beat up old intergalactic transport. Through the Force, I listened for a moment to the minds of the ground crew, and learned that the ship was a ferry that serviced an orbiting liner bound for Lok.

Lok was nearly as far out on the rim as you could get. Only the desert world of Tatooine was further. If I wanted to get far from here, that was the ship I needed.

I let the ragged, smelly coat I was wearing fall to the deck and ducked quickly beneath the body of the ship.

There were guards stationed around the opposite side of the ship, where the passengers were disembarking, but the blind side of the ship was relatively unguarded.

No one noticed me as I walked casually towards the other side of the hanger. Without the ragged coat, I was wearing only a pair of nice boots, pants, and the shirt I had looted from the corpse. While the shirt was not recently laundered. At a distance it appeared quite ordinary.

I slipped into the line of passengers waiting to board the ship for Lok and tried to look casual. As we inched forward, I spotted a discarded voucher envelope, not unlike the ticketed passengers around me carried in their hands.

"Thank the Force," I thought with relief as I stooped and casually picked up the discarded piece of folded flimsy.

As I neared the purser, I forced myself to relax. It was difficult. The constant subterfuge was not helping my nerves at all.

The purser was a rather attractive twilek woman, with pale blue skin and demonic red eyes. Despite this somewhat disconcerting combination, she managed to radiate a soft, gentle friendliness. Her uniform was a blue, only a few shades darker than her skin, trimmed in simple white with a red insignia emblazoned on the left breast.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said amicably as I stood before here. "Ticket please?"

"Of course," I smiled in what I would hope would be a disarming manner. Then I stretched out through the Force and gently, imperceptibly, nudged her mind.

She stared at the ticket voucher, and her eyes went momentarily blank.

"The ticket is valid," I thought, pushing gently against her mind. "You see everything is in order."

"Well," she said after a few moments. "It looks like everything is in order, sir." She handed the voucher back to me. "Enjoy your flight."

I retrieved my expired voucher from her and smiled. "Thank you very much."

A short flight into orbit and the ferry docked with the liner, a modest mid range transport, standard for medium and large charter companies. It was comfortable, but not opulent. Its facilities were simple, elegant and functional.

I scanned the passenger compartment and noted several of the first class seats were unoccupied. After all the hell I had endured in the last forty eight solar hours, I felt that I had earned the right.

The last few passengers filtered in behind me, and my little Twilek purser followed.

I went forward to an unoccupied row, near an emergency access panel, and I sank into the thick, padded seat.

I accepted a complementary glass of Utozz and tried to let the tension of the past days slip from me.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Twilek's voice announced over the speakers. "Please be seated and prepare for lift off. Our flying time to Lok will be approximately ninety six standard hours…"

I was asleep before the engines of the liner had run up to speed.

I don't know how long I was asleep, but when I finally awoke, I discovered that someone had draped a blanket over me. I smiled as I relaxed.

After the horrors I had seen, the things I had been forced to do in order to protect myself, that one, simple gesture of kindness was like a breath of heaven.

"Awake at last, I see?" a grating voice said softly from the opposite side. Startled, I turned to lock eyes with a deveronian. His demonic features and long pointy horns fed a sudden panic that I had to force back down.

"Yes," I replied, faking a sleepy groan. "Sorry if I was crowding you. I didn't know that seat had been taken."

"In point of fact," my companion said with a sly, devilish smile. "It hasn't been. I simply snuck up here once we had left orbit. I should be in the back."

I smiled and nodded in understanding. "Yes, the inexpensive seats tend to be somewhat cramped."

"You don't mind?" He asked me. I shook my head.

"Thank you," he turned and looked out the view port at the stars.

"So," he went on. "Do you have business on Lok?"

My suspicion reawakened with a sudden vengeance.

"Of sorts," I answered neutrally.

"Ah," the devoronian said. "I understand. Far be it for me to pry, but I must say. It is refreshing to meet another one in the trade, as it were, who is not afraid to travel in the open."

"In the trade?" I thought. With a quick thought, I reached out and plucked the information from his mind.

My companion was a bounty hunter. No one big or special. In fact, I had never heard his name before. Still, a bounty hunter none the less, and that spelled danger to me all over again.

"So?" he continued again. "When did you get your invitation, and how much were they offering up front?"

I shrugged, non committally. "Who said I needed to be invited?"

I pulled the blanket off me and resettled myself comfortably in the seat. For the first time, my side arm was visible to my neighbor, and I saw his eyes momentarily widen in surprise.

"I see," he replied smoothly. "So, you are an independent contractor then?"

I nodded.

He clicked his tongue a couple of times and shook his head. "You should really join one of the guilds. They're the one's that get the best contracts."

"I enjoy being independent," I replied smoothly. I had to keep my answers unspecific, and let this man lead the conversation without realizing that he was leading it.

"And yet," he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You are heading to Lok to try out for a position within Nym's organization?"

"I said I enjoy being independent," I countered. "That didn't mean I was set in it. If I can get a good deal, then I might switch. Otherwise?" I shrugged.

"I see," He nodded again.

My unease about this person was growing by the moment, and I didn't need the Force to know he was already scheming. He was going to audition for a job within one of the most ruthless criminal organizations in the galaxy. If there was a way to remove any competition before he arrived, it was obvious that he would attempt it. And I, in my infinite wisdom, had just introduced myself as one of the competition. If there was a Galactic Idiot of the Month award, I would have been a contender for it. I sighed inwardly.

"If you'll excuse me," I said cordially. "I'm going to get something to drink."

"Of course," he nodded, his pointed teeth emerging as he smiled.

"Nice speaking with you," I finished, and I stood, moving aft, towards the lift that led to the upper deck.

As I emerged from the lift, I felt another groan of dismay in my chest. Out of the fifteen, or so, occupants in the observation lounge, it was immediately apparent to the untrained eye that at least a dozen of them were bounty hunters.

Eyes all about the room, turned to stare at me as I entered. There were several humans, three Zabraks, a couple of Trandoshans, and one mean looking Rodian all scattered throughout the place, each with one hand on a drink and the other on the butts of their side arms.

I think I sighed. "I need this like I need another hole in my head," I mumbled.

I sauntered over to the bar, trying to project an air of confidence that I did not feel, and seated myself on one of the empty stools.

I ordered a mug of café and turned back to look at the room, my eyes drifting from one seedy individual to the next in turn.

"You a spook?" a friendly female voice asked.

I looked to my right, and there, sliding onto the stool beside was a slender human female.

"Excuse me?" I asked, somewhat taken aback.

She smiled a truly infectious smile.

She was short, about a meter and a half in height, with a lithe, athletic build. She had deep green eyes that seemed to sparkle with mirth, and long, dark auburn hair. Her features were attractive and seemed to glow when she smiled. She was smiling now.

"Are you a spook?" she asked again, more slowly, but with no less enthusiasm.

"Why do you ask?" I replied, sipping my café.

"Nice boots, no tattoos, no distinguishing marks," she said. Then her eyes fell on my weapon. "And that small planet buster you're carrying. I figured you for a spook?"

I smiled. "Well, you figured wrong."

She was young, probably about eighteen to twenty standard cycles old, and very pretty. Too pretty to be hanging out in this place with the current clientele.

"Okay," she continued cheerfully. "Not a spook. Info runner? Slicer?"

"Who wants to know?" I asked beginning to feel a bit annoyed, no matter how damned cute she was.

She seemed unfazed by my sour mood. She extended her hand.

"Jarynn Selsoo," she introduced herself.

I set the mug down and offered my hand in return as I tried desperately to think of an alias.

"Abril Port," I finally said. Then I decided to try and turn the tides on the curious young lady and give myself a moment to form a decent back story.

"And what are you?" I went on, smiling slightly. "Information broker? Hutt agent? Slicer? Corellian supermodel?"

She giggled at that, and I felt myself relax as a plausible story finally fell together.

"The third one," she admitted, holding up three fingers.

I studied the simple clothing she wore. Dark green pants with black, beaten, utilitarian boots. A simple white top with a sleeveless dirty jacket that might at one time have been gold now stained a dull brassy brown.

From her belt hung an array of electronic components used in the art of retrieving or disseminating information.

"You any good?" I continued.

She sat up proudly and pointed a thumb at her chest. "One of the best. If it's stored in the net, on the holo-feed, or anywhere electronic, I own it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Absolutely!" she nodded.

I heard the scrape of a chair moving, and I felt the presence of one of my "fellow bounty hunters" approaching from behind, just out of my line of sight.

"Well, Miss Selsoo," I said easily. "I may be interested in hiring you for a small job, if all goes well."

"If what goes well?" she asked, her delicate brows furrowing in confusion for a moment. Then realization dawned on her face as she saw the figure behind me.

A big leathery hand fell roughly on my shoulder.

"I know you," a reptilian voice hissed.

"Nevermind," Jarynn said, her smile transforming to an expression that mixed dread and curiosity in equal measure.

I looked at the thick fingered hand on my shoulder. It was his gun hand, so he wouldn't be able to draw his weapon until he let me go. That was a point in my favor.

"I don't think you do," I replied, trying to sound mildly annoyed at the interruption.

"You ever at Dathomir?" he hissed. "I remember from Dathomir."

"Never been to Dathomir, friend," I continued, slowly turning around to face the big alien.

The trando was a good head taller than me, and built as solid as an Imperial Fortress.

His cold, golden brown eyes fixed on me with reptilian intensity, and I saw the pupils pulse slightly as he looked at me.

"I know you," he said again. "You come and steal kill from me on Dathomir. Old Jedi was for mine, and you stole."

"Okay," I said again with forced civility. "One more time, since you are obviously hard of hearing. I have never been on Dathomir. So I would say you've got the wrong guy."

His fingers closed on my shirt and a soft, angry hiss issued from his lipless mouth. The forked tongue flicked out a few times. In a moment, I knew where this was going.

"No!" the Trandoshan hissed again. "You stole bounty from Ressk, You owe thirty five! Pay or I skin you!"

"Thirty five?" I replied in surprise. "Is that all?" I smiled and reached into my pocket for my wallet. I quickly thumbed out thirty five Imperial Credits and slid them in between the respirator on his chest and his black flight suit.

"There you go, Ressk," I said, patting his chest. "Thirty Five credits…we square now?"

Well, if you're going to get into a fight, you might as well have fun while you go there, right?

I heard a muffled giggle from my new little friend, then Ressk hissed like a reactor chamber boiling out, and his other hand grasped my shirt. With a powerful pull, he sent me flying across the room.

I felt the impact as I crashed through a nearby table and a few of my illicit contemporaries.

The big Trandoshan came after me, hissing and blubbering like a swamp geyser. I felt his clawed hand grasp my shirt again, hauling me to my feet.

The fabric of my shirt ripped in his grasp. I let him lift me, and then brought my fist up in a vicious uppercut that caught the Trandoshan square in the center of the jaw.

The scaly head bobbed back and he released my shirt, staggering back a few paces.

He stayed upright, to his credit, and shook his head a couple of times to clear it. Then he came at me again, claws bared.

Several of the other patrons cheered at the entertainment even as they scrambled to get to the outer edge of the combat area.

The clawed hands swung in at me again, striking me in the cheek and then again in the side. I felt the wind blast from my lungs with the hit.

I dropped to one knee and then charged, tackling him at the waist and driving him back against the bar.

With a sudden move, I stood up, driving the top of my head into his jaw again.

A word to the inexperienced: When and if you ever find yourself going hand to hand with a Trandoshan, do **not** head butt them in the jaw or anywhere else for that matter.

I felt like I had just banged my skull against a ferrocrete bunker and I swear to you, I actually heard my head ring. My vision disintegrated behind a cloud of sparkling white spots and I stumbled backward.

Another hit to my jaw and I went down hard.

"Now you die, thief!" I heard the Trandoshan hiss with glee.

On sheer instinct alone, I rolled over and kicked my foot out. I felt it strike something, and I think I heard the crack.

Did you know that Trandoshan joints are just as vulnerable as a human's?

The big lizard's knee collapsed and he came down with a grating cry of pain.

I rolled over, getting to me feet somehow, and drawing my pistol.

Ressk was rolling back and forth, his clawed fingers wrapped around his broken knee.

"Alright!" I gasped, still teetering a bit. I reached down and retrieved my money from him. "Should have taken the deal, bantha breath."

I shook my head and tried to blink the remaining spots out of my eyes. "All I wanted was a quiet trip to Lok," I went on angrily. "Is that so much to ask?"

I turned, brandishing my pistol angrily. Blurry figures stepped back a respectful distance, some with their hands raised in surrender.

Clumsily, I turned back to the bar and managed to find the seat with my posterior.

The BT-7 service droid looked at me with those blank, golden visual sensors.

"You realize you will be held responsible for damages incurred during this altercation," it droned. "ICS does not condone-"

I shot the droid and watched with stupefied satisfaction as the parts scattered and fell to the floor with a series of thumps and clangs.

"Send me the bill," I muttered.

"Not bad, Abril," I heard Jarynn comment. "Not bad at all. I don't know many who can take a Trando hand to hand."

Something dark dripped from my head onto the table, and I frowned.

"Ooo, ouch," Jarynn said, wincing. She reached behind the bar and retrieved a rag and a bottle of something. "Let me see that."

She poured a small amount of alcohol on the rag and dabbed at my forehead. I felt the immediate sting and I winced.

"Yup," she commented critically. "He got you good there."

"No, really?"

Two men dressed in the uniform of Interstellar Charter Services entered the deck, each holding a shock stick in their hands.

The Rodian sitting in the corner rose and stepped over to them, chittering at the men in his own language.

"What do you mean the droid malfunctioned?" one of the men asked.

The second man moved past me and Jarynn to look behind the bar at the wreckage of the droid.

"And you managed to shoot him back here, after he did all this?" he asked.

The Rodian replied again, his hand drifting to the grip of his blaster, and he nodded.

Both men gulped when they saw the various people in the room all resting their hands on one type of weapon or the other.

The first guard looked down at Ressk, still lying on the ground, holding his knee.

"What happened to him?" he asked.

"Something he ate," said one of the other humans in the room.

"Right," the guard nodded, visibly perspiring now. "Of course." The two men turned and made a hasty retreat.

I sat still and endured the sting of the alcohol as Jarynn quickly cleaned my wounds.

"Why didn't you just shoot him in the first place?" she asked. I felt another sting on my neck. "What were you trying to prove?"

"Wasn't trying to prove anything," I replied. "Just didn't think about it is all."

"You're carrying a portable proton launcher like that, and you didn't think about it?" She asked, laughing. "Are you naturally crazy, or did you learn that over time?"

"Just a natural nut I suppose," I smiled.

"So?" she asked, that smile reasserting itself with childish ease.

"So, what?" I asked in return.

"So, what's this job you need me to do?" She continued. "You said that you might have a job for me if everything went well.

She looked past me at the Trandoshan being assisted to a nearby table and smiled. "Well, it looks like everything went okay. I mean, you're still standing, right?"

"So, what's the job?" she asked again.

"I'll tell you in private," I replied.

"Oh, yeah." She said as her voice dropped to a whisper. "Got it."

"You're new at this, aren't you," I gave her a knowing look.

She suddenly seemed very sheepish. She looked around at the others in the room and gave a subtle nod.

"Okay, Jarynn," I said quietly. "Rule number one: Never trust anyone."

She nodded.

"Rule two: Don't advertise."

"But how?" she began, but I cut her off.

"Remember rule one?"

She frowned at me and stopped tending to the cut on my head. Then she slowly smiled and began to nod her head.

"You are a spook."

I sighed. "If you say so." Better a spook, whatever that was, than a Jedi on someone's bounty list.

Aside from my new best friends' endless prattle, the rest of the trip managed to pass without incident. Nothing was ever mentioned to me about reparations to the small lounge, and I didn't bother to press the issue.

Since my mysterious devaronian friend was still occupying the seat next to the one I had appropriated, I decided to switch to a seat in the rear of the ship, and of course, etiquette dictated that I find an unoccupied pair of seats so I could accommodate Jarynn.

I found her to be refreshingly friendly, considering the company of the ship. She had an enthusiastic musical quality to her voice that seldom diminished, no matter which topic we discussed, and we discussed many.

In spite of her youthful nature, I could sense calculation whenever I looked into her green eyes. There was a wisdom and experience there that went beyond her delicate features. I knew that I had to maintain my guard lest I say something to incriminate myself.

By the time the old ship settled onto the last remaining pad at the only star port on the planet, Jarynn had about talked my ears off.

I learned a great deal about my ambitious young friend. She was nineteen standard cycles old, had been born on the farming world of Dantooine, and had left a poor family situation after several scrapes with the locals. Her talent for slicing and forgery had made it impossible to remain on her home world. It had also given her a sizable nest egg to fall back on, mostly in the form of electronically misappropriated credits sliced from random bank accounts on four planets.

We stepped off the ship and into an atmosphere that smelled like one part water vapor and four parts sulfur. My eyes began watering within moments of coming in contact with the oppressive air. Yellow clouds of dust billowed and rolled across vast expanses of rocky terrain. In the distance, the jagged peaks of small mountains rose like broken teeth, back lit by the hazy sun.

We moved quickly to the entrance to the star port and passed through the hatch into the clean interior air.

Both of us coughed and hacked slightly and I washed my face from a refresher basin, trying to clean the dust from my eyes.

"I need to invest in a rebreather if I'm going to work here," I choked. "One with a full face mask." I finished, trying to wipe the sting from my bloodshot eyes.

"So, you are here for the job!" Jarynn said triumphantly. I tried not to smile.

"A job, perhaps," I sighed. "Not necessarily the one you're thinking of."

"Oh," her beaming smile faded a bit in momentary defeat.

"But," I continued, raising my hand. "I still have a job for you, if you're still interested?"

Her smile immediately blossomed again. "Sure!"

"Is there somewhere more private we could go to talk?" I asked. Her sunny expression became coy.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, smiling.

I laughed out loud. "I need your professional services," I whispered quietly.

She let a soft, somewhat seductive giggle burst from her and gently slipped her arm in mine.

"Come on then," she said in a husky whisper.

I was a little taken aback at her boldness, but I let her lead me through the star port and out to a line of vehicles parked neatly behind the main terminal.

She stopped before a weather beaten XP-38 land speeder and entered a code on the access panel.

Instantly, the dusty dome top slid forward revealing a comfortable passenger compartment, large enough for two standard humans.

I climbed into the vehicle and leaned back in the soft bantha hide seat.

Jarynn slid in beside me and began working the controls. The dome slid back and sealed the caustic atmosphere out.

"Sorry about that," she said sincerely. "Had to give the boys a show, you know?" she indicated several figures standing partially obscured in the swirling dust.

"I understand completely," I grinned. The engines spooled up and the speeder coasted away from the star port, picking up speed as we moved further and further away from the central cluster of structures that made up the city known as Nym's Stronghold.

As I watched the monolithic structures fade from sight in the swirling air, I sighed in appreciation. "Who says crime doesn't pay."

"So true," Jarynn replied with a smug smile.

I glanced about the enclosed cabin again and sighed. "This is a nice speeder." I commented.

"Yes it is," She replied, and her smug smile grew.

"Not yours?" I asked.

"Of course not," she replied. "Think I could afford a speeder like this? All my credits go to new slicing equipment otherwise I wouldn't be worth my salt."

We sped across the barren landscape for a little more than an hour before another series of small buildings materialized before us.

She expertly turned the vehicle towards the shadowy hulk of an old factory building.

A quick series of numbers on one of her portable gadgets and the thick durasteel doors began sliding apart.

The speeder coasted slowly into the building. I was surprised to see several individuals moving about within the dark confines of the building.

All the factory equipment had been removed, leaving the building an empty shell, for eh most part.

Jarynn hit a switch and the dome slid back. The air smelled like a combination of welded metals and vehicle lubricants.

I sniffed experimentally as Jarynn lightly jumped out of the speeder.

"Hey, Drako!" she shouted cheerfully. After a few moments of silence – silence being a five second period of time when the only noise was that of plasma cutters and hydro spanners, she put her hands on her hips and bellowed even more loudly.

"Drako, you deaf lizard! Get your butt out here!"

A large, almost obese Ithorian came stumping out of the small office, his long, slender flat head turning from side to side as he surveyed the room. His hammer shaped head paused as his dark unblinking eyes surveyed me, then they turned and looked at Jarynn.

Strange guttural noises emanated from him. Though I was unable to interpret the strange language, Jarynn listened intently and smiled. "Relax fish face," she said with a childish smile. "This is my boyfriend."

I think we both choked with surprise when she said that.

The eyes swiveled around to lock on me and I felt a sudden sense of fatherly protectiveness emanating from the big creature.

I managed a shrug and a weak smile.

He intoned more noises in my direction and I simply shrugged again.

"Sorry," I said. "I can't understand what you're saying."

He made another short series of noises that I assumed, by their enunciation, was some sort of sarcastic remark, and then the big Ithorian stumped towards the speeder, speaking as he went.

"Well," Jarynn answered agreeably. "We needed a lift, and I know you're always looking for parts."

More noises.

"So? Who cares who owns it? It's an XP-38. Everyone can afford one of those," Jarynn replied. "Which is why I won't charge you for this one. Just chop it and call it a day."

Again, Drako spoke in his guttural tongue.

"Well, if you would let me know these things in advance, I might be able to help you there. You never told me you were looking for an old X-34. There had to be at least four of them parked at the space port."

Drako bent near the body of the speeder, his eyes scanning the surface critically and he spoke again.

"What do I look like? A body tech?" Jarynn replied. She had a mildly injured tone to her voice. "I can't tell that a speeder's been fixed when I'm standing in a sulfur storm with my eyes getting ready to explode. Besides, you just like the engines from these things anyway!" She looked at me and motioned for me to follow her towards an exit at the opposite end of the building.

I nodded to Drako as I moved to follow.

He said something after me, though I didn't understand it. Jarynn ignored him outright.

She was about to the hatch when Drako repeated his statement with a touch more harshness to it.

Jarynn sighed and turned back.

"Alright! Alright! Fine!" she looked at me. "He never caught your name."

She smiled and vanished through the hatch.

I turned and looked back at the big brown creature and smiled slyly.

"I never offered it," I said and I followed her before he could say anything else, not that I would have understood it anyway.

I followed my strange host down several flights of steps and we entered a series of old maintenance tunnels.

She led me through some twists and turns before we rounded a small corner and came to a 'T' junction.

Sitting in that junction was a small portable desk, two old beaten café chairs and a portable personal data terminal.

Several other components lay on the desk, all connected to that central unit. Glowing wires ran from the back of the terminal and were spliced into the exposed fiber cables in the large insulated trunk that ran along the top of the tunnel.

I looked down at the portable equipment and smiled appreciatively.

"Nice little setup you have here," I said.

She smiled and offered me a seat on one of the chairs.

"It's cozy, mobile, and I have three ways to exit," she grinned. She dropped into her seat and looked at me expectantly.

"Well?"

"Oh, yes," I laughed. "Sorry. I need a couple things."

"First," I said easily. "I need a name search."

"Okee dokee," she said, slipping a VR monocle over her left eye. Her fingers danced across the keys.

"System?" She asked, now all business.

"Tatoo," I answered.

"Name?"

"Istonaz," I replied. I spelled my old last name and then continued. "Plus any and all variations in spelling."

"Okay," she replied, smiling smugly. "I have one in Tatoo, plus four more in various other systems."

"Which systems?"

"Tatooine, Dantooine, Rori, and Talus," she said dutifully. "All of them vary in spelling, but are part of the same geneology."

"Give me the details on the Tatooine family," I continued.

Her eyes moved across the screen.

"Um," she said as the information coalesced. "Owned a small moisture farm outside Mos Veris, up until thirty days ago, or so. Then, they were declared missing after a Rebel attack leveled the place."

"Any updates?"

She shook her head. "Nope, nothing since yesterday. I have a Tavin, age fifty eight, and Celyssa Estona, age fifty one, both missing, presumed dead in the area of the Veris Incursion."

I nodded. "Perfect."

"Next?" Jarynn asked cheerily.

"Make me a member of that family," I said evenly. "I need birth records, dates, times, everything, indistinguishable from an actual record, traceable all the way back to birth. Then I'll need to acquire some credits."

"Ah," she nodded, removing the monocle and looking at me with those big, beautiful green eyes. "Now we get to the fun stuff."

I handed her a slip of flimsy. "This is the account that I want you to tap for the funds, if you can, and the transfer, like everything else, must be completely untraceable."

"Uh huh," She replied, resting one elbow in the desk. "See. This is the real tricky part of my job. Slicing secure holdings is touchy at best, suicidal at worst, so the fee is slightly higher."

"I understand," I nodded agreeably. "How much?"

"For the Ident?" she mused, and that childish smile began to blossom again. "Five thousand for that. I got a bunch of I.D. strings that I can run. They have everything that I need to make you legit from birth to present, so it won't take much to slip that in. The bank stuff will depend on what I run into."

I reached into my bag and drew out the credits in cash, handing them to her. "We'll see then."

She looked at the cash on the desk and smiled.

"All right then," she replaced the monocle and tapped in a few commands, quickly and neatly.

After a few minutes she paused. "Okay, that's everything. All I need is a name for the Ident."

I wrote the name I wanted down on a scrap of flimsy and handed it to her. She looked at it and frowned in curiosity, and then she shrugged.

"That's interesting," she commented absently. "Never heard that one before."

She tapped a small DNA reader on the desk. "Put your thumb there."

I did as instructed and the reader glowed briefly.

"And, that's it," she said after a few more moments. Then she flipped the monocle back and smiled. "First time you run into one of those retina scanner readouts, it'll prompt you with a code word. Just say that word out loud and it'll read the data and upload it before it displays any information in system."

"You do know a few tricks," I smiled appreciatively.

She smiled again as she slipped the money into her vest. "A few."

"Now, the bank part," she resumed, flipping the monocle back over her eye and keying the access for the bank specified.

She was humming to herself as she worked, a strangely amusing smile playing at her lips as she muttered various admonitions and curses to the people who had programmed countermeasures against her brand of programming.

"Wouldn't happen to have a password, would you?" she asked lightly.

"Password is Listro," I replied easily. She looked at me and smiled.

"Not bad, Abril." She grinned "Not bad at…Whoa!" she jumped back and disconnected her access with a push of a single button.

"What happened?" I asked.

She looked at me and I could tell she was mildly angry.

"What's the deal here, Abril?" she asked me. "That account is under Imperial Lockdown! That means Cyber network security, D-8 Encryption traps, and I.C.E. defense measures to prevent just this sort of thing!"

"That's why I need you, darling," I smiled.

She shook her head. "No, no! You don't get it! I touch a credit in those seized accounts and it'll burn a glow line straight to my terminal! The Imps would be all over me like stink on a Gamorian before I could break the connection!"

I gave her a challenging look. "What happened to 'if it's electronic, I own it?'" I asked.

"I wasn't expecting an Imperial seized account to be a part of the deal!" she replied. "That's an impossible situation, right there! Period! End of line!"

She paused suddenly, and I could sense the wheels turning in her mind as she weighed various possibilities.

"How much are we talking about, anyway?" she asked.

I grinned. "Oh, so that's how we play it. Make it sound tough and then ask about the amount?"

"Well," she countered. "It would have to be a lot for me to even consider what I'm considering, and because I'm already considering it, I should charge you, because if this doesn't work, I'm going to want one last shopping spree."

I reached into the bag and set another five thousand credits on the desk.

"Tell you what," I offered. "If you can't tag this account, why not snatch the credits from some random ones in the surrounding systems?"

Her eyes widened in appreciation and she nodded.

"For that much cash,' she said with a grin. "I can make you a senator."

"Nothing so grandiose." I replied. "I just want enough credits to purchase a decent ship and establish myself on a planet somewhere."

"On Tatooine?" Jarynn filled in the last blank.

"Possibly," I replied.

Her infectious smile grew, and I could feel it actually warming the cool subterranean place.

"Well, Abril," She replied. "Then I should set up the account in the Tatooine data bank so you could get the money fairly easily."

She turned back to her data console and began tapping the keys again.

I had never seen a person who was so absorbed and yet so satisfied with her chosen path in life. She had a smile on her face that combined smug wisdom and youthful exuberance in a beautiful blend that made her face glow. She was actually humming softly to herself as she worked.

I found myself studying her face as she worked. I was entranced by her delicate features, currently filled with childish joy, in spite of her somewhat nefarious activity.

Okay, I admit it. In spite of everything, I was finding myself attracted to her. Now, I know that it isn't protocol, but I didn't really feel like making an ass of myself, so I took a moment and reached out through the Force and touched her mind, just to see if the interest was mutual.

To my surprise, I found that it was!

Would it surprise you to consider that I was actually contemplating a liaison with this beautiful young lady, in spite of everything hanging over my head?

What can I say? I am male after all, and who knew how long my ruse would keep me safe before some bounty hunter popped up and turned me into a credit voucher?

"All done," Jarynn announced. "The program will run for two standard hours and then self erase, eliminating any trace of the tap. Your credits will be available after then."

She picked up the cash, flipped through some of it, and then, to my considerable surprise, she handed two thousand back to me.

"What's this for?" I asked.

"So you can buy me dinner," she replied with that same gorgeous smile.

I raised an amused eyebrow. "You know any place nice?"

"On Lok?" Jarynn replied with a laugh. "The only decent place is inside Nym's Stronghold, and since we're both applying for a job there, I figured that would round things out nicely."

I smiled. "I have a confession to make. I'm not on Lok for a job in Nym's organization."

If she had another question, she didn't get the chance to ask it.

The concussion resonated through the tunnel and made both our stomachs jump slightly.

It had obviously come from Drako's little chop shop above.

Her glowing expression faded to one of dread as several more thuds resounded through the passage.

"Drako!" Jarynn breathed in panic. She bolted back down the tunnel.

"Jarynn!" I called after her. "Wait!" I tore down the tunnel after her, pulling my weapon free.

We came up the steps, feeling and hearing the blasts more clearly with each step. The odor of smoke and death became more defined as we continued up.

Jarynn darted through the door, and I heard her scream in terror.

I found her standing, dumbstruck amidst blaster fire and burning wreckage in the chop shop.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her into cover behind a half stripped V-35 Speeder. Through the smoke and debris I could see several figures, armed with blasters, darting about, and firing at anything that moved.

In the center of the room, near the speeder we had appropriated, lay a burning corpse. By the volume of the mass, it could only have been the Ithorian.

There were tears in Jarynn's eyes, adding torment to the mask of outrage on her face.

"We gotta get out of here!" I said quickly. I peeked over the nose of the speeder, and saw one of the intruders pointing a large barrel blaster in our direction. There was a thump and I ducked back under cover as a nearby piece of machinery, probably a metal recycler, exploded in a fiery blast. The heat rolled over us and the concussion of the blast knocked us both to the ground. When I looked back up through the smoke, I saw the entrance to our escape route obliterated and buried behind a tangled mass of wreckage.

There was no way we were getting out that way.

There was a lull in the blaster fire, and over the creaking of steelplast, we both heard a rough voice say.

"Level the place. Make sure no one's left."

Jarynn's expression went from unfocused rage to fierce recognition.

"Staanic," She growled. She would have charged out there if I hadn't held her back.

Then the blaster fire resumed. A quick check and I saw several more bodies strewn about the place.

There were six of them, including the leader, a large, powerfully built Zabrak with dark black and gold tattoos on his face. By the way he was pointing at things and shouting orders, I assumed that he had to be the one Jarynn was familiar with.

I wasn't sure how the two of them were associated, but I could guess that it wasn't a pleasant coexistence.

That was Lok for you. Nothing more than rival gangs from the petty pickpockets to organized crime syndicates, all vying for dominance on this blighted rock.

There was a hint of motion on the opposite side of us, and at the back of the speeder, I turned to see a man with a large, wicked looking blaster rifle pointed at the two of us.

On instinct alone, I fired from the hip. The man was hurled back by the powerful blast, slamming into a tool chest and crumpling to the floor in a heap.

Jarynn screamed in terror, effectively giving away our place of concealment.

"Move!" I ordered, pulling her by the arm towards the rear of the speeder as more blaster fire riddled the wall and cut the forward section of the speeder to fragments.

We ran past the body and dove behind a series of storage crates just as the speeder we had been sheltering behind erupted in a blast of fire and shrapnel that scored the walls behind us.

One down, five to go.

"Find them!" The voice ordered. "I don't want any witnesses, understand?"

I closed my eyes and stretched out through the Force, seeking the minds of the men in the building. All of them were alike in mind. Cold, brutal, and reveling in the carnage they were unleashing. I also got a real good idea where they were.

When I looked at Jarynn, she was staring at me in fright.

"Stay down," I said. Then I adjusted my position and checked the charge on my weapon.

I popped up and fired several quick shots at the opposition. I was grimly satisfied when I saw one of the men advancing fall to the ground with a cry. He hadn't been quite quick enough to make it to the cover of the open office door.

"Two down," I said as I crouched back behind the crates, avoiding another hail of blaster fire.

I could feel a sense of protective outrage settling over me as I stared at Jarynn's terrified expression. My blood began to boil in fury.

The fire subsided slightly. I could only assume that a couple of the men were reloading their weapons. Time for another volley.

This time I rolled out from the side of our cover and fired again. Two men scattered towards anything that could provide them protection, while a third snapped his weapon in my direction and unloaded a barrage of red death towards me.

I ducked back just in time, hearing something sizzle past my ear.

"That was close," I thought. I checked the charge and sighed. I had three more shots on that cap and a second charged cap in the small pouch on the holster.

If I wanted a chance in hell of surviving this, I needed to take at least one more of them before I had to reload.

Looking around for inspiration, I saw a discarded petro chemical tank lying nearby.

I reached out with the Force and flung the tank past our position and out towards the middle of the room.

With one shot, the tank exploded over the heads of our attackers.

I popped up from concealment again and saw one of the men turned away from the blast and exposed.

Two shots and that man went down.

I dropped to my rump behind our rapidly diminishing cover and let the spent cap fall from the weapon, snapping the fresh cylinder into place.

Now Jarynn's expression was one of wonder mixed with the terror. I suppose I'd have some explaining to do, once we got out of this mess.

"Three down, three to go," I offered, trying to sound upbeat.

She said nothing.

Again, I located the assailants through a Force Search. Two of the men were close together, about ten meters away, behind the hulk of our stolen speeder. The third one was moving stealthily towards us, on our right flank.

I took a deep breath and jumped to my feet, firing at the two men. Amidst the hail I unleashed, I saw both men roll out from cover as our commandeered transportation erupted in a brilliant orange plume of exploding gasses and shrapnel. Then I wheeled and sighted the final figure, the big Zabrak. He held a massive T-21 Imperial assault rifle, and he looked at me in surprise. I squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. The cap was depleted.

My entire life flashed before my eyes and I sighed in dismay. Oh well, it had been a good plan.

Staanic smiled confidently and raised his weapon.

There was a flash, and then several more flashes. When I opened my eyes, I saw Staanic standing there, a look of shock on his face as he gazed down at the gaping charred hole in his chest.

Looking off to the side, I saw Jarynn, standing with a discarded rifle in her hands, the barrel still smoking. She had an almost serene expression on her face.

"Nice shot!" I exclaimed in a burst of relief.

"Thanks," She replied. Then she took an unsteady step back and toppled over.

I caught her easily and instantly saw the wound in her midsection.

"Oh no," I think I gasped. I grasped her hand, cradling her head in my lap.

She winced in pain and then looked up at me in wonder.

"Never met a Jedi before," she said with a smile.

I couldn't find the words to comfort her.

"There's a swoop in the back bay. I know it's clean, cause I had Drako build it for me." She continued.

"Be still," I said quickly. "We're gonna get out of here, and I'll get you patched up. You're going to be fine."

"Remember," She went on. "Wait two hours before you access that account, otherwise the Imperials will be all over you."

I nodded.

"Don't let them find you, Abril," She said.

"Tiberius," I corrected. "My name's Tiberius."

She smiled. "Good. I like that name better."

I smiled and then, without thinking about it, I bent and kissed her.

When our lips parted, she looked up at me with that same peaceful smile.

"Took you long enough," she whispered.

I smiled and opened my mouth to reply, but the light in her eyes was gone, and she stared up at me with the same, wondrous, peaceful expression as the derelict that I had found back home.

"Jarynn?" I asked, as if my question would bring her back.

I don't know how long I stayed there, just holding her in my arms. I don't know if I wept. I only know that I hurt. It was a pain that began on the surface of my skin and sank all the way through my body, squeezing my heart like a rancor's jaws and turning my bones to stone.

I vaguely remember leaving her behind. It was the hardest thing I had ever done. I think I stumbled into the rear bay and found the sleek, black swoop she told me about. I rode it back towards the starport, all the while; my perception was surreal, hazy. It was as if my mind had gone to sleep, and my body was acting of its own volition. I purchased some clean garments and a ticket on a shuttle, bound for Mos Eisley, sat down in the ship, and just…shut down.

I never slept, I just was.

Somewhere during that flight, a change came over me. The hours solidified my grief into something like steel resolve. My entire universe had been destroyed in one long tragic series of days.

This small shuttle was a coffin, and the body of Tiberius Istonaz lay within, waiting.

By the time the shuttle touched down in the seedy district of Mos Eisley, there was nothing left.

I walked through the space port, a new, long duster slung over my shoulder and a heart as heavy as a singularity. By the time I emerged in the dry, sandy world that was Tatooine, it was over.

Tiberius Istonaz, fourth son of Senator Acacius Istonaz, was dead and gone. There in the oppressive heat and the gritty winds that was the most desolate and remote corner of the universe Ba'raan Estona was born…

END


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